


Not a Good Year

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon relationships mentioned briefly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-24
Updated: 2006-07-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: The loss of Kon finally hits Clark.  Bruce happens to be there for the fallout.





	Not a Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by my dislike of OYL Clark and his despicable comment that "it's been a good year."
> 
> Spoilers: Up, Up, and Away, 1-3, Infinite Crisis 6/7  
> Continuity: UUAA 3-ish, with some tasty bits stolen from Smallville because it rots your brain and corrupts.

A year away was supposed to make things better.

Somehow, despite Bruce's best intentions, they hadn't gotten better at all. The "bonding" time he'd spent with Dick and Tim hadn't yielded the results he'd hoped. Most of the trip had been 365 days of watching Dick comfort Tim, Tim withdrawing even further, and Dick pushing himself to heal faster than his body was willing to take.

His boys had leaned the lessons he'd taught well, in other words.

But Bruce had spent the better part of the past year lying in bed, listening to Tim's muffled voice confide to Dick, all the while wondering why the chasm between himself and Dick and Tim remained as wide as ever. By the time the Wayne private jet had landed, Bruce was unable to shake the feeling that something was going on with both his boys that he should have known.

_I tried_ , the part of him that never stopped asking for his father's approval mentally apologized. 

_It wasn't really good enough, was it?_ Came the all too familiar refrain. 

_No_. But it was too late - Dick insisted on making his own path again and Tim was in a hurry to get to Titans' Tower. 

And Bruce had to deal with the other relationship he'd so carelessly neglected. . . no, _wrecked_. He'd put Clark off for last, in part because he'd sensed Dick and Tim needed to come first. But that was overly simplistic. Bruce had also forced their separation because he'd needed the year to rid himself of the nagging voices that insisted on reminding him that Clark had known about the League's actions in taking his memory and not said a word.

A year was supposed to make that betrayal hurt less. Bruce wasn't sure it had, but he'd have to deal with Clark sooner or later. He'd might as well get it over with.  
\-------  
Metropolis had never felt quite right to Bruce, but the new Metropolis - the one without a Superman - felt far worse than the overly cheerful, bustling, bright Metropolis of old.

For the first time, Bruce noticed the shadows of a city that had nearly always been synonymous with the sun. It reminded Bruce of his own city, and that reminded Bruce that something was off kilter. Superman and shadows didn't belong together. 

They'd learned that a long time ago.

In the time it took for Bruce to discover that Clark wasn't at The Daily Planet, he deduced that, apparently, Clark didn't mind the lack of a Superman in his city nearly as much as Bruce did.

He shouldn't be surprised, of course. He'd heard all of the rumors during his time away - the accolades, the interviews, the prized reporter- all signs that Clark was perfectly content in this new life that the Crisis had given him. 

But on his way to the Lane-Kent apartment, Batman apprehended four would-be robbers in the midst of activities that Superman would have stopped before thy had a real chance to begin, proving that Supergirl wasn't an adequate replacement for the job Superman should have been doing. 

_He lost his powers saving the universe,_ the voice reminded him.  
  
True. But the Clark whom Bruce had once known wouldn't have been content to sit on his laurels and revel in his marital harmony while his city slowly rotted from the inside out. Never mind the intel from Oracle that claimed Clark had been offered a power ring and turned it down. Barbara wouldn't tell him how she knew that, but if it was true -  
  
_It doesn't matter,_ the voice chided him. _That's not why you've come to Metropolis._ No. He was supposed to be healing old wounds, not picking at the scabs. That fact didn't go very far in easing his irritation.  
  
His irritation continued to fester when he discovered that Clark wasn't home. Neither was Lois, but finding her wasn't difficult. It never was, because the woman didn't seem to have a survival bone in her body. Thus, her daily schedule was as predictable as it had been when they'd met years ago. At 10:05 in the morning, Lane was badgering her contacts on the western side of the city. She would continue that activity until 12:15, when she would down an energy bar on her way to the southern side.  
  
Batman dropped in front of her in the middle of her first bite.  
  
She was startled, which meant she wasn't being nearly as alert as she should have been. _If anything ever happened to her. . ._ Clark would never get over it. Bruce wasn't looking forward to that inevitable day, though he contemplated bringing up the possibility when he finally found Clark. Maybe it'd shake some sense into the man.  
  
"Batman. I guess the rumors are true." She shoved her tape recorder in front of his face, and Bruce fought the urge to slap it out of her hand.  
  
"Where is he?" Bruce said simply.  
  
As she placed the recorder back into her pocket, the familiar look of Lane-annoyance crossed her face before it was replaced by something else. "Didn't you check the calendar today, Batman?" When he didn't respond, she added, "It's Jonathan's birthday. He's in Smallville. I would have thought you'd know that, _Detective_."  
  
He'd forgotten. The fact that he had was a sign that they'd grown even further apart than he'd believed.  
  
His conversation with Lois was finished. But when he turned to leave, her voice followed him. "If you're going there to bitch at him about not being Superman anymore, you might remember that _Batman_ took a year off, too."  
  
It wasn't the same, of course. His city had others like him to take care of her in his absence. There was no one like Superman. When Clark neglected his duty, _people_ were hurt. Bruce didn't need to look further than the ten minutes that the League - but. . . no. That wasn't why he was going to visit Clark in Smallville, and from the irritated glare that followed him, Bruce suspected that Lois knew that too.  
\-------  
  
By the time he'd reached Smallville, Bruce had almost forgotten _why_ exactly he had come there in the first place. The voice reminded him that it wasn't to complain about the lack of Superman and it wasn't to rehash old arguments, but once Bruce had cleared those from the agenda, the real reason sounded suspiciously like Bruce was there to repair a chasm _he'd_ forged in their relationship in the first place - long before the mind manipulations, before Brother Eye, before the wedding.  
  
_Partially repair,_ he mentally corrected himself. _He's married now. Things can't ever be the way they were._  
  
That was never his choice, the voice reminded him.  
  
Finding Clark in Smallville wasn't difficult, even once Bruce had discerned that he wasn't at the Kent farm. The town _was_ called _Small_ ville for a reason and with Clark having lost his powers, their ability to cover ground was on equally footing. Bruce might even have had an advantage, considering his training.  
  
Clark made it easy for him by being at the very first place that Bruce looked. It wasn't ever a place they'd discussed, but Clark had mentioned enough about Lex and the past that Bruce's obsessive side hadn't rested until he'd obtained every detail of Lex's history in Smallville. Thus, Bruce understood Clark's attachment to the bridge where a teenage Clark Kent had saved Lex Luthor's life. In the darkest parts of his soul, Bruce had wondered how much better the world would have been if Clark had been anywhere but on that bridge that day, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Clark had entertained the same thought, even if Bruce hoped he hadn't.  
  
Typically, Clark only returned to this bridge when he was feeling emotionally drained. Bruce couldn't immediately discern why he might have come here today. Both Kents seemed fine and by all accounts, the marriage was going more smoothly than ever. There didn't seem to be a reason for Clark to be here.  
  
But when Clark turned around, his face revealed plainly that everything wasn't going as smoothly as Bruce had been led to believe. The loss of powers had revealed a set of red eyes that revealed. . . far more than Bruce wanted to know.  
  
"Bruce. You're a long way from home."  
  
"So are you."  
  
"It's my father's birthday," he answered, as though there wasn't anything wrong with Bruce not remembering that of his own accord. Bruce didn't have superhearing, but he'd studied body language, and he saw the way Clark's head dipped at the word "father."  
  
Bruce didn't know what to say, because he hadn't expected Clark to be in emotional turmoil. If he'd known that Clark would have been, he wouldn't have come.  
  
_Because you expect a friendship from him you do not give,_ the voice chided.  
  
There had to be more, both because Clark's expression said so, and because with Clark, there was always more. But minutes dragged on, with Clark staring silently across the river that stretched below them. The sense of discomfort that had prompted Bruce to seek Clark out in the first place reared its' head and forced him to break the silence. "What's wrong?"  
  
Clark afforded him another glance of those horrible red eyes that made Bruce wish even more strongly for those superpowers to come back. Whatever was bothering Clark must have been horrible, and Bruce steeled himself for any number of possible answers. He was nonetheless unprepared for the question Clark asked in reply. "How are Dick and Tim?"  
  
"They're. . . fine."  
  
Bruce wasn't entirely prepared for the wrath his statement would cause from Clark. "You don't sound sure. Why don't you _know?_ A _father_ should always _know_ how his children are."  
  
From the personal anguish in Clark's voice, Bruce was able to deduce that he was speaking about Kon-El, although the "relationship" between Superboy and Clark had been less familial than even the ones Queen had with his brood. "Clark-"  
  
" _Always._ I . . . I didn't, but a _father_ should. Even Lex knew that. Even _Lex_ was a better father than I was."  
  
Bruce didn't agree, but a dozen bitter comments by Tim about Clark's aloofness with Kon-El from the past year flashed through his memory. A dozen comments that had all been directed to Dick, not him, proving that he wasn't any better of a mentor than Tim thought Clark was. "I'm sure you did your best."  
  
"My _best_ wasn't good enough. My _best_ was to push my responsibility off on to _my parents_." Clark paused to swallow the tremble in his voice. When he spoke again, the pain was still evident in the mournful gaze but not in his voice. "They miss him so much. Pa. . . Pa asked me to clean out Conner's room because. . . he didn't think. . . he _knew_ it would hurt me less."  
  
"Except that it obviously didn't."  
  
"I was boxing up his things and . . . there were _birthday_ cards. From the Titans. I realized I didn't even know what day he celebrated for that day. I felt so badly about it. . . I told Ma that I'd never given him anything. She told me that I was being foolish. She reminded me that I'd given him _life."_  
  
Clark was biting on his lower lip and half of Bruce wanted to run back to the plane and back to Gotham, where he didn't have to deal with Clark's emotional crisis. The other half took a step closer to Clark but didn't do anything else besides feel completely useless.  
  
"It sounds stupid, but it was at that moment that I realized that I'd lost a son. . . a son I hadn't even bothered to know."  
  
"I lost a son once." Bruce hadn't intended to say that, but now that it was out, Clark was looking at him expectantly. The farm boy clearly wanted Bruce to say something to make it all better.  
  
_I can't._ But for once, he desperately wished he could offer some degree of comfort, even if it came in false promises. But because he _had_ lost a son once, he knew nothing he would say would make it any better.  
  
_You can be there for him the way he was for you,_ the voice reminded him.  
  
"And I seem to recall someone trying to tell me that grieving was what made me human." The words didn't sound quite right coming out of his mouth, and if Clark's bottom lip was any indication, they hadn't helped. Bruce racked his brains, trying to remember the comfort that Clark had offered all those years ago when he'd lost Jason, but nothing seemed appropriate.  
  
Except one thing. It was the one thing Bruce didn't want to do . . . because too much had changed between them and he no longer had the right. . . but it was a very Clark-like thing to do. Hesitantly, Bruce stepped another two steps closer and wrapped one arm around Clark's shoulders. It had been years since they'd done anything remotely similar to hugging, but Bruce instantly knew that the shoulders _were all wrong._ They were too gentle and felt as though they might break if Bruce squeezed too tightly.  
  
At his touch, Clark turned to look at him. He appeared to contemplate asking Bruce what he was doing, and Bruce was glad he didn't, because Bruce wouldn't have had an answer for him. "The hurt isn't going to go away, is it?"  
  
"No." Bruce wouldn't think of Jason now, because that would complicate matters far beyond what they should be.  
  
There was more that needed to be said, but Bruce couldn't find the words. Clark apparently remembered who he was dealing with and stopped searching for verbal condolences where there were none and instead chose to relax into Bruce's embrace. The minute Clark did so, Bruce realized that _this_ was why he had sought Clark out. It had nothing to do with missions, missing powers, mistakes of the past or stolen memories. He'd sought Clark out because Bruce had needed reassurance that all of those things hadn't gotten in the way of the one person Bruce placed above them all, no matter how he much didn't want to.  
  
The fact that the reassurance was coming in the midst of Clark's grief over a dead child. . . a dead _son. . ._ was disturbing. Bruce tried, even more than normal, to ignore the contentment that lurked deep within as Clark's arms wrapped around Bruce's waist, returning his hug.  
  
He silently vowed to visit his parents' graves when he returned to Gotham and ask them to look over Kon-El, just as he had with Sue Dibney and Jack Drake. Bruce hoped that act would help make up for the inappropriate amount of joy he'd obtained from this conversation.  
  
_You could do more,_ the voice argued. But Bruce chose, just this once, to ignore it, as he chose to ignore the other problems that whispered in the back of his mind.  
  
For now, Bruce and Clark were going to be okay. With the feel of Clark's arms around his waist, Bruce was willing to be optimistic enough to believe that the rest of the world would fall into place.  



End file.
